He had come close to spending in Millie’s mouth but could not bring himself to do so. He had opted to carry her to the bed and return the pleasure he had received. Her quim had tasted fine, her body deliciously responding to every lick and suckle. After she had spent, he had sheathed himself a second time inside her.
His cods boiled, wanting release, but he held off until he sensed Miss Woodwiss approaching her pinnacle.
“Ya, ya, ya,” she mumbled as she rode him.
He bucked his hips faster, tightening his hold on her, for Miss Woodwiss was as light as a ragdoll. He remembered how Millie, a quick student, had known to ask his permission before spending. He remembered how she had met his thrusts, how their bodies had formed an easy rhythm.
Miss Woodwiss cried out as her body fell into paroxysms. When she had done shuddering, he pulled himself out of her and set her down. Aiming his shaft away from her, he jerked at his member till his seed shot into the ground. They recovered in silence, she leaning against the wall to catch her breath, and he wiping himself with his handkerchief.
“Will you be here tomorrow evening?” Miss Woodwin asked.
“I think not,” he responded as he replaced his fall. It had not been his intention to satisfy his lust with anyone tonight, but the appearance of Millie had changed all that. The memory of her and Château Follet had stayed with him longer than he cared to entertain.
For this reason, he had doubled her dowry. The sooner she found a husband, the better. Of course he would have liked to see her well settled, but it was also best that he be done with his cousin once and for all.
Chapter 4
SEEING THAT HER MOTHER walked her way with Mr. Carleton beside her, Mildred slipped into the corridor of the Grenville home and went to hide in the music room.
“Your pardon, I did not realize the room was being used,” she said to the debonair young man, who seemed equally surprised by the woman who had rushed into the room and swiftly closed the doors behind her. Not wanting to return and risk being found by her mother, she looked about the room, which contained a pianoforte, a harpsichord, two violins, and harp. “Are you musically inclined?”
He looked sheepish. “In truth, I don't play at all. I was seeking refuge—I mean to say, solitude. Do you play?”
“A little, but I must confess that I did not make my way in here in search of an instrument.”
He lifted his brows and appeared a little relieved.
“I am not one given to much socializing,” she explained further.
“Nor am I.”
“You are a friend of the Grenvilles?”
“I am a friend of Mr. Harris, and staying with him, and he is a close friend of Mr. Grenville. I am George Winston.”
She returned a curtsy to his bow. “Mildred Abbott. My family and the Grenvilles have known each other for a long time, and I all but grew up with their daughter Jane.”
They regarded each other for a few seconds in silence before he asked, “Would you care to play?”
She made her way to the pianoforte and sat down. “You may regret your invitation, for my skills are limited.”
He went to stand near. “I cannot cast stones, for I do not play at all. Anyone who has taken the time to learn a musical instrument deserves praise.”
“That is very kind of you to say,” she said as she selected Mozart's 'Fantasy and Sonata in C minor', “but I am quite tolerant of criticism. I know I did not practice as much as my instructor would have liked.”
After she had completed the piece, with only a few minor errors, he clapped his hands, saying, “That was marvelous. You were being modest when you said you played only a little.”
“I selected a rather easy composition.”
“Are you quite difficult to compliment?”
She might have received this question as impertinent, but he spoke in such an easy, gentle manner, that she almost felt guilty for not accepting his praise.
“Your pardon. I did not mean to be rude.”
“No offense taken, Miss Abbott. If I played as well as you, I should be deliriously happy with myself. Granted I am no expert at the pianoforte.”
“I suppose I do appreciate that my family was able to afford a music instructor for me.”
“I imagine you possessed other talents that you deem yourself 'a little' skilled at.”
“Lest you think I am all modesty, I will boast that my French is quite good, but I am a horrible dancer. My dance instructor was even more cross with me than my music instructor.”
He chuckled. “I would hazard that you are more modesty than not. I expect that if I were to witness you on the dance floor, you would not be nearly as bad as you think.”
“Oh, I assure you I am.”
He chuckled again, and his eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. “I suppose we shall have the chance to ascertain if you are accurate in your assessment or if I am correct that you underestimate yourself.”
She shook her head. “I don't often dance.”
It was a true statement. She did not often get asked to dance, though that had changed in recent months, thanks to Alastair. She tried not to think of her cousin every time Mr. Carleton or Mr. Porter approached her, but she would not have been in this position if not for Alastair.
“Do you not care for it?”
“I like the activity fine. I would participate more often if I were more skilled at it.”
“I suppose I am more selfish in that I consider myself middling in my dancing skills, but my enjoyment of the activity exceeds what guilt I may have from inflicting my inferior abilities upon an unsuspecting partner.”
It was Millie’s turn to chuckle. “Imagine if we should both take to the dance floor. What havoc we might cause!”
He perked and beamed at her. “What a delightful notion! We should attempt just such a thing!”
She shook her head. “I could not.”
“Ah, because you are a better person than I and would not impose upon others that which you believe would be a poor performance.”
In truth, Mildred had hoped to remain closeted in the music room till all the dancing had past, but that was rather wishful thinking. She could not disappear for such a length of time without raising brows and appearing rude.
“You think too well of me,” she replied to him. “It is because I would rather observe the elegance of those more graceful than I.”
“I gather there is little chance, then, that you would accept my request to dance?”
She studied him, wondering if he was sincere in his desire to dance with her. She found herself rather tempted, for he had such an affable manner and the most charming smile.
“Indeed,” she answered. “You seem a nice fellow, and I would not subject you to my poor dancing skills.”
“If you underestimate your dancing skills as much as you do your skills at the pianoforte, then I should think you a rather good dancer.”
“I would not take the chance, were I you. There are enough others here tonight who would assuredly be better than I.”
“Even if you are a poor dancer, I would rather have you for a partner because it is quite clear to me that you are a woman of intelligence and wit. And I would sooner have a partner with whom I can converse well than a woman with whom I can dance well.”
She shared the same sentiments, and would not mind being in Mr. Winston’s company. Certainly, she would prefer dancing with him than the likes of Carleton or Porter. “Very well, but you have been warned.”
“Splendid!”
“I shall make your middling abilities appear worse than they are.”
“That does not concern me in the least.” He glanced toward the door. “I suppose I ought to rejoin the others. I would not wish my host to think I had deserted him.”
She drew in a fortifying breath. She was not ready to brave the Carletons and Porters but supposed she had to follow suit with Winston. When he presented his hand to assist her to her feet, she accepted it. He held on to h
er hand longer than she would have expected.
“I suppose it would not do for us to be seen walking from this room together,” he said.
“Most assuredly.”
He released her hand, and she felt a little wistful at its loss. “Ladies first, then. I shall follow and find you for a reel—or would you prefer the quadrille?”
“The quadrille, please.”
“The quadrille it is.”
Mildred took her leave with steps light and happy. The evening no longer presented to be as dreary as she had thought.
Chapter 5
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF Mr. Winston,” Jane asked of Mildred as they stood against the wall waiting for the dancing to begin. “The gentleman staying with Mr. Harris. He seemed a handsome fellow.”
Mildred scanned the room but did not see him.
“I should say he is the most handsome of bachelors here,” added Mary.
“I prefer Mr. Wiggins, but Mr. Winston would certainly be second in my opinion. But I should not be surprised if he takes an interest in Mildred more than anyone.”
“In me?” Mildred felt an inner glow as she recalled how her hand had rested in his.
“Yes! All the bachelors seem to have taken an interest in you, now that you have a dowry of four thousand pounds.”
Mary heaved an envious sigh. “How lucky you are, Millie, to have such a generous cousin in the Marquess of Alastair.”
“She is lucky to have such a cousin, dowry or not.”
Perplexed, Mary raised her brows.
“You have not met the Marquess, but you would understand what I mean if you had.” Jane gave a mischievous smile.
“He is very handsome then?”
“Oh, he is more than that.”
“He has not the best of reputations,” said Mildred, feeling a little traitorous in speaking poorly of her cousin, but she spoke to convince herself as much as Mary.
“He cannot be all bad if he granted you such a generous dowry.”
“He should despair to hear you speak so well of him,” Mildred smiled. She frowned as she saw Mr. Carleton approach. “But I had rather he not be quite so generous.”
“Why would you not? I think you must have more suitors now than even Miss Rose.”
Yes, and she is none too happy about that,” said Mary with a giggle.
“Miss Abbott,” greeted Mr. Carleton, a gentleman upon whom grey was not the best of hues. He wore a touch too much pomade in his hair, but was otherwise decent in appearance. “May I have the honor of the first dance?”
Before she could answer, Mr. Porter had arrived and said, “I had thought to ask the same, but I will settle for a reel.”
“What say you, Miss Abbott? I think the quartet will begin to play any moment.”
Mildred hesitated, wanting to say that she felt too fatigued for dancing, but she was looking forward to taking the floor with Mr. Winston. She supposed she could tolerate one dance each with Mr. Carlton and Mr. Porter.
“Remember you promised the gig to me,” a voice behind her said.
Mildred turned her head and perked to see Mr. Winston.
Jane poked her subtly in the ribs as if to say, “I knew it.”
“That is correct,” Mildred said. “I did reserve the quadrille for Mr. Winston.”
“Then I will have the next dance,” said Mr. Carleton.
“Or, if I may be presumptuous—” Mr. Porter interjected.
Mildred imagined if Alastair could see the nettled state she was in, he would only be amused that he had produced such a fuss. He would have not an ounce of sympathy.
From across the room, she could see her mother talking to Mrs. Harrington as she pointed first toward Mr. Carleton, then at Mr. Porter. Then into her line of sight came Miss Hannah Rose, dressed in a gown that might have featured in the most recent issue of The Lady’s Magazine.
“There you are. We wondered where you had gone off to,” she addressed Mr. Winston, then noticing Mildred, her smile fell, but she recovered in the presence of others. “Why, Mildred, that gown looks quite charming upon you. I think it my favorite among all your gowns. I can see why you chose to wear it last week at the Westbrook soirée, and the week before that at Mrs. Wilmington's dinner. If I had that gown, I would be tempted to wear it often as well, but then people may think it my only gown.”
Mildred only smiled, for she was accustomed to these sorts of compliments from Hannah. Miss Rose was not a pretty young woman, though she had large eyes and long lashes. Three of her teeth were crooked, but she did not often smile with open lips. Her complexion was middling, and her lips protruded forward, but she carried herself as if she were a beauty, and that convinced many others that she was just that.
“I wonder that you do not acquire many more gowns, now that you have a dowry of four thousand pounds?” Jane asked.
Mildred looked sharply at her friend. She knew Jane spoke to irritate Hannah, but she would rather Jane did not trumpet the facts of her dowry.
Beside her, Mr. Winston raised a brow.
Jane ignored or did not notice the look from her friend. “How fortunate you are, Millie, that you have the Marquess of Alastair for a cousin. Why, you nearly have the connections of Miss Rose here, whom I understand has a great uncle who is an earl.”
Mildred suppressed a groan. As Hannah often flaunted her family’s connections, Jane knew full well whom the Rose family was related to.
Hannah’s eyes narrowed before conceding, “It does not compare to being related to a d’Aubigne.”
“By marriage only,” Mildred said. “My uncle was Lady Katherine’s second husband. The d’Aubigne blood does not run in my veins.”
“Even if the present Marquess of Alastair has a repute that would make any decent person blush and hesitate to boast his name,” Hannah finished with a hard stare and a tight-lipped smile directed at Jane.
Jane frowned and visibly struggled for a retort.
“Shall we take to the dance floor?” Mildred asked Mr. Winston.
“Yes,” he replied eagerly, perhaps as relieved as she to be departing
Miss Rose appeared startled, but she did not want for a partner and was soon besieged by men asking her to dance. As others followed onto the dance floor, Mildred took her position facing Mr. Winston.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
She gave him a puzzled look.
“It appears you do not look forward to this dance, and I fear I had cajoled you into this earlier.”
“No, no, I am fine. I was merely thinking of...less pleasant thoughts. My mind was not on dancing.”
He returned a sympathetic smile. “I rather wish I were back in the music room, too.”
His statement made her chuckle.
“I should consider myself fortunate to have ensnared the first dance,” he went on to say as the music began.
“You are,” she said in jest, “for, as I’ve said, I prefer to watch.”
“I was referring to your many suitors.”
“Oh. You mistake the men. They are not my suitors.”
They took their turn in the first figure.
“No? Then it is commonplace for men to quarrel over a dance with you?”
“They are more interested in my dowry than in dancing with me.”
“For a young lady with an impressive dowry, you behave with surprising modesty.”
“All ladies of sizable dowries must be overbearing?”
“I suppose I have that prejudice. As you are a d’Aubigne, I admit to having fully expected pretension and condescension.”
They awaited the other couple before resuming their discourse.
“I am not a d’Aubigne. My uncle married the aunt of the present Marquess of Alastair.”
“That would make the Marquess your cousin.”
“By marriage. We are not blood relatives, and our situations in society are quite different. You know the d’Aubigne family?”
“I was at Oxford with Andre d’Aubigne. He was two
years my senior, and I do not think he took any notice of me, but I admired him from afar. He was quite the batsman at cricket. Do you see much of the Marquess?”
“No. There are not many occasions for us to meet.”
It was a true statement for the most part. Their time at the Château Follet had been an anomaly.
“There are few occasions and little company that merit his tolerance, but, forgive me, I should not speak ill of your cousin. He was that way at Oxford, and he must be a different man now that he is a marquess.”
“It would seem not.” She nearly added that Alastair tolerated gaming hells better than he tolerated his family.
They moved on to other subjects after that. Mr. Winston danced with sufficient grace despite his prior assertions to the contrary, and when he held her hand, she found his hold warm and comfortable. She was rather sorry to see the dance come to an end.
“I was right,” Mr. Winston declared as he led her off the floor. “You are a much better dancer than you give yourself credit for.”
“And you as well.”
“Not only did we not make fools of ourselves, I think we presented a decent pair.”
She smiled and would have accepted a second dance with him if he had asked, but he had not the chance. She was not surprised. A handsome and charming man, his attention was quickly engaged by many others, including Miss Rose. But Millie fancied he glanced her way every now and then. The pleasantness of their exchange lasted the remainder of the evening, and even accepting dances with Mr. Carleton and Mr. Porter was not as insufferable as she would have thought.
Chapter 6
WHEN ALASTAIR CAME into his townhouse and received word from his butler that a “lady awaited,” he thought it might be Millie. Few women would dare seek him out at his home. But he had not heard from Millie in some time and presumed she had abandoned hopes of persuading him to change her dowry. After their meeting in the gaming hall, she had written him twice with reasoning, threats, cajoling, and pleas.
He had responded by advising her to desist or he should be tempted to double her dowry to eight thousand pounds.
Tempting A Marquess for Christmas: A Steamy Regency Romance Book 5 Page 3
